


division

by strwberryys



Series: underwater academy [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Assassination, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of politics, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Torture, mentions of rape/non-con, spy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-06-29 16:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19834600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strwberryys/pseuds/strwberryys
Summary: for a better future, a gang of spies are to complete a massive amount of risky tasks.





	1. one

The thick and white layers of snow crunch beneath a sprinting pair of feet.

The night is cold — almost too cold for a human being to bare. Yet Jeongin is out here, racing like he was being followed by the devil himself, neck, ears, and cheeks painted a dark red.

_The others,_ that’s a repetitive message that certainly kept him from slowing down. _He needs to get to the others_ now.

Breathing harshly through both his nose and mouth, he zipped past the maze of giant trees, stumbling and practically falling face first into the snow. The large gusts of wind isn’t doing him any good either, nearly tossing him around and biting any exposed skin.

Dammit, he’s fucked.

He is _so_ fucked.

He can already picture the dark, fuming eyes of his leader, the pursed, snarling lips, along with words like “What did I tell you?”. He can already _hear_ it, and his stomach twists at the thought.

Snow gathers into a little pile when Jeongin abruptly halts, covered feet scraping against the ground. He huffs, attempting to catch his breath as he stares ahead, anxiety bubbling in his chest.

A group of gunmen are approaching swiftly, yelling something incoherent in the distance. He must be their target, as they appear to be coming his way, weapons aimed and ready.

_Shit, shit, shit._

The boy wastes no time as he turns on his heel, scurrying in the other direction. His pace is quicker than the previous. Everything he runs past is a blur, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. Of course he isn’t going to allow that to occur in the vital moment.

Jeongin knows exactly how to hide, he just has to be really careful.

Really, really careful.

”Spread out!” Jeongin hears one of the men holler. His heart leaps, clenching his teeth with desperation. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees the armed men (there are five of them, from what Jeongin can tell) following the order, two of them running further toward the left, the others to the right.

Fuck.

He draws his focus in front of him once more and, to his surprise, was able to dodge a tree he nearly clashed with. Throwing himself behind it, he takes a moment to breathe, eyes gaped, fingers compressing against the bark.

His lips quiver, the sweat plastered against his pale skin causing chills to course through his body. Trying to escape them like this certainly isn’t doing him any good, so after taking a second to weigh options he hardly even had, he chooses to do what he’s only best at.

Metamorphosis.

The youth’s mind is spinning like planet earth itself. Steadily, he starts to mutter incoherent words repetitively, voice trembling, eyes closed. The audible sound of approaching feet rings loudly in his ears, however he remains focused.

Eventually, the adrenaline that’s already racing through his shaking limbs increases in speed. Jeongin bites back a groan when he encounters the terrifying sensation of his insides flaring up, feeling himself shrink in size. He’s blacked out for what seems like a long while, and before he even realizes, before the men are at his sides, weapons turned toward him, the boy vanishes.

Utterly puzzled, the weapons are dropped at their sides.

”Where’d he go?”

They look dumb, turning their heads as they searched uselessly, one of them eyeing around and up the tree.

_God, this is frightening._ Although Jeongin is completely used to his ability — like he should be — it never failed to surprise him how much larger enemies (or anybody, actually) appear when this tiny. Adjusting to the rather unique feel of having eight legs, the tarantula skitters past the tree and flees the scene.

Minho’s jaw is clenched, patience growing thinner by the second.

Forty minutes.

That’s how long ago Jeongin and Hyunjin left the room. The sun is down already, for Pete’s sake, they should have returned a long while ago. At this hour, the duo can fall into a pit of trouble if caught by the police.

Well, Jeongin can, anyway.

Minho shifts around beneath the thick sheets, a bundle of stress biting at his nerves and mind, brows knitted.

_They’ll be here any second now,_ he thinks, anxiety bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps tagging along with the youths’ would have been a better idea; at least Minho would have known where they were and what they were doing. He would have been able to guide them back home safely.

The sound of distant chatter fills his ears and he loses his train of thought, darting his dark chocolate orbs. The boys must be concerned also — that, or Hyunjin and Jeongin have finally returned, getting the scolding they indeed deserve.

Curiosity gets the best of him, fumbling out of the sheets to rise from his bed and march outside of the room. His feet drag lazily against the hardwood floor as he walks past the few rooms in the large vehicle. The talking gradually dies down and turns into whispers, causing the guy’s eyes to narrow with suspicion.

Something is going on out there..

The flooring faintly creaks under his weight, face contorting with caution. Father is knocked out in one of the rooms. Currently standing as the only responsible kid tonight, he’d hate for father to assume he was apart of the stupid ‘plan’ of theirs’.

Father audibly snores, causing Minho to freeze for a split second. It’s evidence that he is emphatically asleep, that was a plus. He silently rushes past whichever bed the elder is in, face contorted in a way that would have sent the others into hysterics.

In a rapid motion he pushes the double doors open, meeting with the turning heads of his brothers. They all appear startled, enlarged eyes and gaped mouths utter proof that they were expecting somebody else — expecting father.

Minho’s lips purse, orbs immediately landing on Chan.

”What?” he finally breaks the heavy silence, stepping out of the RV to shut the door. Clearly, the pair hasn’t yet returned, and if father were to overhear them, they’d be in a heap of trouble for sure.

“It’s late, y’know. If father catches you guys out here, he’ll—“

Jisung cuts him off rudely, a snarl in his voice. “We’re waiting for them.”

The words are rushed and spat, deliberately meant for Minho to quit talking. 

Minho quirks a brow, hands currently tucked in his pockets as he mingles into the small crowd of his friends.

”Who’s ‘them’?”

Chan rolls his eyes. “They know what time it is, so they’ll be here shortly.”

”You’ve been saying that for the past ten minutes now.” Woojin tries to mutter, failing miserably as he’s rewarded with a dark and thunderous glare from the leader. He’s about to say something, slightly moving forward until the audible sound of approaching footsteps echoes loudly before them. The group of seven freeze when they spot a sprinting Jeongin, mouths falling open with astonishment.

Chan is the first to step forward, trying to ignore the violent thumping of his heart.

_Where the fuck is Hyunjin?_

Jeongin ceases once he’s close enough, panting like he’d just finished running a marathon. Refusing to look any of them in the eyes (specifically Chan), the boy practically descends to the ground, a deathlike grip around his legs.

”J, what happened?” Chan tries to whisper, and Jeongin would be lying if he said he didn’t practically jump out of his skin. Head hung low, his voice is kept cautiously low,

”I-I’m sorry,”

”What? What is it, _speak to me!”_

His hands are on the younger male’s shoulders now, slightly shaking him back and forth. The crowd of six behind the two are rather startled by the abrupt action, panicked expressions completely identical. Each second rapidly ticks by in what seems to be a long moment of aggravating silence. If Jeongin were to look up and into those frantic orbs of Chan’s, he’d possibly ball his eyes out.

”Where’s Hyunjin, Jeongin?”

There’s a croak in his voice when he answers,

”They took him.”

The strain in his neck is what causes him to rouse. Gritting his teeth to hold back the groan that would have elicited from his throat, Hyunjin slowly begins to roll his neck to the side, awaiting for that painful yet satisfying crack.

He’s bound down against something, that’s for certain; arms taut above his head, little waist secured tightly so his bare back is against the cool surface beneath him, barely able to kick his feet around. The only clothing Hyunjin has on is the sweatpants Seungmin allowed him to borrow for the night. The atmosphere is uncomfortably cool, damp hair brushing against the lids of his eyes as he examines the room he happens to be in.

Hyunjin starts to believe he’s completely lost his mind once he comes to the conclusion that this indeed isn’t his room. It’s practically too dark to even spot objects nearby; the boy narrows his eyes, searching for any doors, any windows, any _light._ Nothing of the sort is evident.

It takes no longer than a rapid minute for the male to recall the occurrences of earlier, and like the flicker of a light, fear is tumbling down and clashing with his pounding heart.

Oh fuck, and Jeongin. Their attackers’ might have Jeongin locked up somewhere in this creepy looking place. Hyunjin shuts his eyes and swallows with anxiety, silently praying the younger had escaped. Otherwise, they’re both lost and could possibly be here for only god knows how long. Chan doesn’t have a clue in the world where they’d walked earlier, and father wasn’t even _aware_ of the pair leaving in the first place. And shit, if that man finds out...

The boy audibly whimpers out of horror and frustration, lower lip pulled into a pout. He can fucking _die_ here. He doesn’t know where he is or who has him or what exactly is bound to happen to him tonight.

Hyunjin begins to struggle in his bonds, the metal against his wrists and ankles biting into his skin. Grunting in frustration, he throws his head back, lower lip wedged between his teeth as he sustains squirming around. His hands are in tight fists, veins utterly visible in both his arms and neck, just about ready to burst from the tremendous amount of strength he’s putting in.

”Come _on.”_ he growls breathlessly.

After a few more seconds of futile attempts, Hyunjin ceases to properly breathe, slumping in defeat. The restraints simply won’t budge, and to even have the physical strength to break free from such thing would be insane.

He swallows before mouthing incoherent words, struggling to keep his eyes closed, fingers digging into his palms like blades. He’d almost forgot about using his ability, but after several additional minutes of futile attempts and aggravation, he concludes there simply isn’t a way out of this. Hyunjin’s been caught for good.

A low creak hits Hyunjin’s ears, making him jump with surprise. There’s light, and when Hyunjin shifts to watch it gradually become bigger, he spots a figure entering the room. His body stiffened in horror.

A voice — wait, _multiple_ voices ring in the room,

”He awake yet?”

”I don’t give a shit, hit the lights.”

Shoes click against the hardwood flooring and echo loudly as the light vanishes for a brief second, rapidly replaced by the abrupt brightness of the ceilings lighting. The flicker caused the boy to quickly shut his eyes again, heart racing in a deranged manner.

Something — a hand, he would assume — makes contact with Hyunjin’s chin to lift his head. At that, he clenches his eyes shut tighter, lips pursed to muffle out any sound of dismay. The mysterious person standing in front of him murmurs something Hyunjin couldn’t catch, seemingly playing with his cheeks before releasing him.

”How long has he been in here?” That booming voice could have caused the youth’s heart to leap right out of his own chest.

”Dunno. An hour, maybe?”

”Hmph,”

That hand begins to ghost over his upper body, supposedly checking for a pulse. Or perhaps something out of the ordinary.

The sound of metal colliding makes him flinch again, a cart of some sort being wheeled in his direction somehow recognizable to his ears. The one hand that has been harassing him for what seems to have been a solid minute is finally detached. Hyunjin takes this opportunity to peer through his hooded eyes.

He spots men, two of them to be precise. The one closest to him is reaching for a metal bowl, grasp steady so whatever happens to be in it doesn’t spill. Goosebumps visibly rise from Hyunjin’s exposed skin.

“Sure you don’t want me to do it?”

”I’ve got it,”

Hyunjin resumes pretending to sleep, praying to every god that he isn’t noticeably shaking like a leaf. His thoughts have all become a blur, simply unable to think about anything, muscles growing weaker by the second as the loud silence nearly consumes him.

It takes a rather short lived moment for the boy to realize that the bowl was full of hot, boiling water, and in no time was being splashed in his face. The liquid runs along his slender body and soaks his sweats. Solely a brief moment flew by when the pain hadn’t yet kicked in, hadn’t completely heated his face and body, hadn’t caused him to flush a practical maroon. The numbness he once encountered morphed into a new, unbearable flare within seconds, and he is absolutely positive it could draw him nearer to death.

Hyunjin’s mind is utterly blacked out as he begins to shriek, body uncontrollably twitching and convulsing in agony. Tears leak from the corners of his eyes like a running river, mingling with the water on his face. His own voice and surroundings suddenly grow distant and it almost feels as if he’s drowning, drowning, and drowning.

One of the men practically yell over the screaming, and a moment after the boy is smacked in the face with an audible _whack._ Nothing but a croaked cry withdraws from his throat as his head snaps to the side.

”Alright, enough is enough, you bitch.”

One of them falls into a fit of laughter while the other sets the bowl aside, only to reach for another weapon. Hyunjin attempts to brace himself for whatever is to come, huffing and gasping and struggling.

”I would rather not spend the rest of my night hurting you, but if I must, so be it.”

His voice is thunderous, and _holy shit,_ that voice certainly does not match his face. Based on his appearance — round glasses, slicked back brunette hair, large, white lab coat and thin lips — he supposedly should have a slightly higher pitched tone, like some nerdy scientist.

It made him think of Felix.

”Listen,” the other speaks slowly, a hand up in defense (as if Hyunjin could even do anything), “all we want is the truth. Okay? We know who you are.”

Hyunjin’s orbs flicker in that man’s direction, gnawing at his lower lip.

“We know who your father is. And, we also know what your father is capable of, so—“

”Who is he?” Hyunjin rasps, swallowing as he awaits for response. Both guys look baffled, mouths parted while blinking a few times. “M-My father. Who is he then?”

”Nobody asked for you to speak, did we—“

The nicer — well, _calmer_ male cuts the other off, waving a dismissive hand. ”Park Jinyoung.” 

_Fuck._

Hyunjin swallows again, anxiety bubbling in the pit of his stomach. How could they know? Could they be stalkers?

”We’d like to know why you work for him? What are his intentions, exactly?”

The boy averts his eyes elsewhere. “That isn’t my father..”

The darker haired male brings a hand over his face, trying to leave impatience completely out of this. The brunette, however, takes a step forward, merely inches apart from the youth.

”Keep playing innocent if you want, child. You’re a terrible liar.”

”I-I swear, he isn’t.” the desperation in Hyunjin’s voice is audible. “You have me mistaken for someone else. He isn’t my father!”

He hadn’t even been halfway done with talking when the man cackles, playing with the tool in hand.

”Dammit. I really wanted to go easy on you.” he states rather mockingly, popping the cap off of what happens to be a long and large needle. He holds his free hand out and open. “Tube.”

A slender tube is placed in the male’s palm, and in no time attached to the needle. Hyunjin watches it all with widened, terrified orbs, tears peering out the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t know what he wants more; to scream, or to weep, or to beg for mercy.

What he _needs_ is for somebody, _anybody,_ to bust down those doors just in the nick of time. He needs to wake up so that he could confirm that this is no more than a nightmare.

He’s utterly caught up in panicked thoughts and before he knows it, there’s a sharp pain coursing through his arm. It’s actually bearable at first; like an ordinary doctors shot. Then, a flare kicks in and Hyunjin is drawn into a grunting mess, uselessly fighting with the restraints.

More of the remaining needle sinks deeper into his reddened skin, drawing blood through the long tube that was connected to only god knows what.

“We’ll stop whenever you decide to speak up kiddo. The choice is yours.”

”I-I’m not— I’m—“ the youth struggles, wincing and twitching.

”Shall I?”

He hears the other ask, and after a “go on” is softly spoken, a hot and damp cloth is pressed onto his side, just above his hip bone. An ear piercing shriek causes the men to cringe, yet they attempt to sustain focused, determined to properly break him.

_“Stop!_ _Stop,_ _please!”_

His entire body is shaking at an insane rate, a practical representation of what a seizure looks like. The torture goes on for a wicked, agonizingly long two and half minutes, weapons finally dropped at their sides. The room is solely filled with Hyunjin’s choked sobs and shallow breathing. He cannot tell the difference from his own sweat and the water, cannot feel his side anymore. Chest rising and falling, the boy watches both guys through heavy-lidded eyes carefully.

His mind is a fog, barely catching the words spoken from in front of him. A hand is being waved in his face, somewhat grabbing his attention.

”C’mon, answer the question.”

”For fucks sake, we should have... other one..”

Hyunjin’s brows faintly furrow. Their words slip in and out, fleeting as the teen has descended into a dazed state.

How much blood did they take?

He’s fallen slump in the bonds, head tilted to the side while he tries to hold himself together.

“Last time.. why... and what does...”

Nope. He can’t listen. Neither does he have the energy to reply. It isn’t long before something sharp and cool makes contact with his non-injured side, steadily trailing down the taut skin. Hyunjin can barely bark out a cry at this point, limbs still twitching.

Spat words that were filled with genuine threat is about the last Hyunijn’d managed to hear before completely giving out, all of his surroundings fading to black. 


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeongin feels guilty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry in advance, this chapter is a little short!

Park Jinyoung has been pacing around for the past five minutes; at least, that’s what it seems like.

All eight of his guilt-struck spies stand in front of him with their heads hung low, enlarged eyes indicating both dread and anxiety. The tension is high, filling up the warm and muggy atmosphere in the room.

To say that Jinyoung is pissed is simply an understatement. Not a word in the world could describe the amount of fury shooting through every vein in his body.

The scrape his shoes make against the carpet floor cause the boys in front of him to flinch, refusing to meet that man’s furious orbs.

Not even Chan could bring himself to look the elder in the eyes.

”Are _any_ of you about to explain why this happened? Why you allowed _him—_ “ he points to Jeongin, “out of the house last night?”

When nobody answers, the man decides to add on, “Not to mention dragging Hyunjin along.”

”Sir?” his voice is small and quiet, drawing everyone’s attention in a rapid manner. Jinyoung wears a snarl on his face as those dark orbs flicker in the youngest male’s direction. “I-I would have went on my own, but, they were insisting that I—“

_”None_ of you were to be out of this vehicle, ever!”

He roars, every word bouncing off of the walls in the tiny room. The boys remain stiff in their spots, as frigid as the sturdy beds they sleep upon.

”You do realize you could have died, right? _Hyunjin_ could have died last night. Let that sink in.”

Chan nods. They had all signed up for danger last night, all caused something that possibly has father weighing whether or not to keep watchful eyes on them at all times. Jinyoung reaches to pinch the bridge of his nose, taking a brief moment to breathe in, breathe out.

”Seungmin’s going to have to work harder now because of you idiots. I’ve got to pay medical bills, and I’m not doing it alone.”

Seungmin hesitantly glances up at the elder, hands kept behind his back. He nods, more so from acceptance than agreement.

”We’ll discuss assignments for your next mission at the gym tomorrow.” the man huffs and glares down at his watch, releasing a rather petty chuckle. “Well, later today, actually. It’s two in the morning.”

_Shit._

They're supposed to be up in less than four hours.

”I’m fucking exhausted. Get to sleep, all of you.” the man opens the door as he speaks, watching the group steadily march out of the room. “And do _not_ come crying to me when you’ve got bags under your eyes and you feel like collapsing.”

Jeongin swallows down hard, eyes twitching, fists clenching and unclenching. He’s just inches away from father, the man that sure as hell would beat him to a pulp if he wanted to. He’s the last to exit the room when suddenly, Jinyoung yanks him backward, hot breath against his ear. Jeongin freezes, breathing shallow and quick breaths of panic.

”This isn’t the end for you and me, kid. I’ve still got some knowledge to put into your head, m’kay?”

He’s so stiff he can barely nod. Jinyoung releases him, practically shoving the boy out of the room to slam it shut.

”I wish you wouldn’t have done it,”

Chan says in a practical whisper. Jeongin is sat in front of the other with his knees against his chest, drawing invisible shapes on the carpet. He wishes he could tear away the aching in his chest, attempting to swallow down the lump in his throat. If Chan hasn’t hated him in the past for unforgettable mistakes, he is bound to hate him this time.

Though he appears as calm as the night’s chill breeze, Jeongin can sense the rage within him. And his eyes..

His eyes always glimmer a hint of yellow when he’s on the border to anger.

”I know.” he replies slowly, tamely. Chan’s expression is blank.

”This doesn’t just affect me as a leader, but us as a team. Hyunjin will need to step out of these next few missions because of this one slip up.” Chan explains, “He might need a couple of therapy sessions, too. We don’t really know what happened down there, but it’s pretty obvious he was tortured.”

Jeongin averts his gaze. “I know.”

Chan’s lips form into a snarl.

”Is that all you have to say? “I know, I know, I know”? After what h—“

_”Hyung.”_

When the smaller meets Chan’s eyes again, he can’t help the single tear that trails down his cheek, lips trembling in a way that would have crushed any of the others’ hearts.

Not Chan’s.

”Please, hyung. I m-messed up, alright?”

His heart thumps with either relief for letting that off of his chest, or simply because of the leader’s cold attitude. Both, perhaps.

Chan seems to stare him down for quite some time, mindlessly gnawing at his inner cheek. It’s as though he’s attempting to read the younger’s mind, completely understand him, only to no avail.

Jeongin hears him sigh aloud before shifting around, feet brushing against the floor.

”Goodnight, Jeongin.” And that was it. The older male exits the room without another peep, leaving Jeongin to sit alone in the dark and break down into a harsh session of sobs.

Perhaps it isn’t true; however, the older the boy gets, the more helplessness tends to play a role in his life. Could he have been made from a broken mold? He can’t tell.

It hadn’t been too hard to rouse in those few hours. Changbin was the first to wake up, a bit puzzled as he found himself feeling rather energized. Instead of drawing the others out of their comfort, the dark haired male decided to head out on his own; father could care less, as Chan is usually the first one up and out of the door.

As he marches through the snow beneath him, he glances down at his watch.

_Five forty-five._

”Damn,” he mutters, chuckling a second later. Less than three hours of snoozing and here he is, walking through the bitterness of winter to get to the gym. The team doesn’t even have to be up until six, when the sun is just starting to rise. Changbin doesn’t mind, though.

He takes his time strolling through the maze-like forest, eyes casting upon the dark, early morning sky. Indeed a peaceful hour, and honestly (with the correct amount of sleep), Changbin would not mind leaving the house this early. God’s beautiful creation lures him, nearly hypnotizes him, and suddenly he wishes for a phone or a camera just so he could capture the moment.

Yet this is fine. Even better, perhaps. To witness the aesthetic setting with his own curious orbs, to have the opportunity to _smell,_ to just breathe it in, is an utter satisfactory.

Changbin looks over his shoulder in search of the trailer, only to spot a practical black dot. He’s gotten so far within a few minutes — precisely ten.

That loud ass alarm clock is their problem now.

A few more minutes go by until he’s approaching the double doors, shuffling through his coat pockets for his ID. It takes a moment to find it, muttering a “shit, I know I have it” before whipping it out and into the frigid air. He scans the card over the scanner and awaits for the audible ‘beep’. The lock shifts, his queue to enter. When he pushes the heavy doors open, he’s instantly smacked in the face with a blast of cool air. It’s nearly colder than outside.

The male faintly shivers after the doors shut behind him. The large room smells of equipment and cleaning products, a smell that often reunited with not just his nostrils, but his mind, too.

Setting aside his bottle of water, Changbin begins removing his winter garments. He figures, it’ll take a while to fully adjust to the atmosphere, so he mind as well push himself to start warm ups right away.

The alarm went off about five minutes after Chan drifted to sleep. He’d tried, he really did fucking try — but what was the use of sleep when he had too much on his mind to begin with?

Father’s words really did sink in; Hyunjin _could have_ died, and such knowledge thrown into his head practically makes him want to smack Jeongin in the head for being an idiot. Of course, the youth hadn’t intentionally dragged Hyunjin along with him — if the boy genuinely wanted to witness the sunset that much, he needed somebody to protect him — but he should have listened to Chan’s words to begin with. He should have considered the danger he’d put everyone else in if he and Hyunjin were to be caught by police, especially an unexpected rival.

Yet then again, he himself chose to allow the pair out of the RV. As a matter of fact, the leader stated he’d keep an eye out for father, make sure the man was knocked out sleeping, and afterwards ordered them to sneak out of the vehicle.

He was an idiot too — they all were.

Chan smacks a hand against his forehead when there’s obnoxiously clamorous pounding at his door, along with the booming voice of father.

”Get up! Everyone up!”

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, the male shifts to rise from what he identifies as paradise, groaning at the loss of warmth. This has got to be the worst part of their morning routine.

He takes a brief moment to stretch, arms above his head, back arched ever-so-slightly, grimacing until he hears a faint yet audible crack.

Five minutes of sleep.

Today’ll be _great._

Chan slouches toward the door and yanks it open quickly, revealing the tall figure whom had been noisily banging on his wooden door seconds ago.

He blinks. “G’morning, sir.”

”And a good morning to you as well, Bang Chan.”

Jinyoung almost wears a smirk on his face, and Chan isn’t very fond of it. It just genuinely isn’t something Park Jinyoung does. Not unless they succeed in a task.

Chan attempts to smile back.

“Don’t forget your water bottle, alright? Spend about an hour or so in the gym, and I’ll meet you all there to discuss some new arrangements. Cool?”

”Cool.” Chan shrugs his shoulders. Jinyoung pats him on the arm before turning on his heel to approach another door.

It is odd, actually, to think that only hours ago father was angry, yelling and pointing in their faces. For a situation so brutal, Chan’s quite shocked to witness the man in such an upbeat mood. He’s got to be up to something.

Chan slightly shuts the door to change clothes, shirt coming off after a single tug. He absentmindedly tosses it aside and searches through his dresser full of organized shirts. For working out, the male usually throws on a black tank top and a pair of sweats. With the harsh condition of the weather, he decides to wear a long sleeved shirt over the tank top, simply for extra protection.

”We’re up, dammit! We’re _up!_ ”

Chan overhears one of the members — Jisung, he thinks — exclaim as the knocking sustained. He chuckles under his breath.

In a rapid motion, the male pulls the sleeveless material over his head, smoothing out the wrinkles before repeating the action with the long sleeved shirt. After shutting the drawer, he gapes the lower one to inspect for a specific pair of sweats. As his head is in a cloud of thoughts, a gentle knock at his door nearly startles him.

”Come in.” he orders, turning his head once the door faintly creaks. Chan is met with a shirtless, swollen faced Minho, the boy’s mind seemingly everywhere and nowhere at the same time. His hair is completely windswept, an additional piece of evidence that the boy had literally just woken up mere seconds ago.

Lips jutted into a pout, the younger boy practically mutters, “Where are my keys?”

At first, Chan has to take a second to process the inquiry, grasp an idea of what he’d just been asked before reaching toward the top of his dresser. The multiple selection of keys — each attached to a metal clip and diverse in color and shape — jingle in his grip, flying in the air and successfully landing into the hands of Minho’s.

”Use those wisely, yeah?” he yanks out the black and grey sweatpants he favors as he speaks, earning a loud “uh huh” as Minho is already marching away. He swings the tiny objects around his index finger like they were inexpensive and meaningless toys. His bare shoulder vaguely brushes against father’s as they pass by in the narrow hall, disheveled, dark brown head of hair bouncing with every step he takes.

He enters his shared room to see Jisung wrestling to yank his blue sweats above his hips, wriggling and hopping around. Minho would have laughed, however as of right now, his mind is still half asleep.

Stepping over sprawled out clothing that have carelessly been tossed onto the floor, Minho sets the keys aside onto the dresser and slides open the mini door connected to the wall. He punches in a code of invisible numbers, mouthing the digits as if they were a prayer. An audible ‘ding’ hits his eardrums and indicates that he has successfully entered the correct code. Sliding back another little door, he can solely twitch a small smile when blessed with the sight of a partially filled pack of ‘arcane cigarettes’ and a lighter, locked behind a secure, silver colored set of bars.

The keys are reunited with his hand, some seeped between his fingers as he searches for the single key that only unlocks this particular box.

At last, Jisung’s sweats cooperated and are clutching onto his hips, a sigh of relief cutting into the quiet room. He swiftly turns his head to watch the focused other insert the key to the lock.

”Isn’t it too early?” he questions. He receives a shrug in response.

”Dunno, but I don’t care, either.”

It opens on the first attempt, a rather satisfied Minho gripping the small pack and immediately pulling it open, a decent amount of cigs available. It would do for now, but sooner or later they’ll need more.

Grabbing for the lighter, Minho steps from one side of the room to the other, standing beside the agape door. Jisung eagerly follows, grin tugging at his lips. Minho eyes the younger male, and for a moment he considered not sharing at all, but he figured Jisung would need a boost as well. Placing the butt between his thin lips, Minho offers one to Jisung. Like he had expected, the other gladly accepts it, chucking it between his own lips.

The click of the lighter is a sound so pleasant to their ears, a reminder that they’re about to receive a self made treatment. Jisung slightly sticks his head out for Minho to light the fire over both cigarettes at once, mentally counting to three before releasing the ignition.

The pair shut their eyes in content, steadily inhaling the mystical, cloudy substance. It burns in the slightest, tingling in their chests and making it’s way down to caress and heal their organs and bones. A slow yet pleasurable progress, and with the amount of transformations made and abilities repetitively used in the past few weeks, this is a much needed session.

Minho’s completely zoned out, the slender cig pulled from his lips as he allowed for the chemicals to propose its magic. Jisung opens his eyes after pulling his own cig from his mouth, cheeks still puffed with smoke. He smiles and lets his mouth fall open, exhaling some of the substance and deliberately blowing it into the older’s face.

Minho’s eyes flutter with awareness, not an ounce of amusement on his face. Instead, he smacks him in the face with the back of his hand, earning an “ah” that mingled with childish giggles.

”Fuckin’ dumbass! You’re not supposed to exhale!” he scolds the laughing youth, throwing a halfhearted punch to his shoulder. Jisung’s hand comes up in autopilot to caress where he’s been slapped, smug grin still plastered on his face. “Somebody else could’ve used that,”

”Relax,” he waves a hand of dismissal, “I still managed to inhale some of it.”

“Yo, Minho,” Woojin peers into the room, eyes narrowing the second the moderately acrid scent fills his nostrils. His eyes flicker down to the tiny cigarettes held in between their fingers. He exhales a laugh, shaking his head in utter disbelief. “You really couldn’t wait til later, huh?”

”I don’t see you possessing people basically three times a day. _Plus,_ ” Minho hovers the cig over his mouth, “I haven’t had the proper time to do this in over a month, so..”

Woojin nods with a quirk of an eyebrow. He’s quite impressed the boy was able to wait that long, considering the fact that he is normally caught smoking arcane cigarettes at least every two weeks.

”Fair enough.”

Jisung grasps for a random shirt, figuring it wouldn’t make a difference to wear a proper shirt to work out in when he’ll end up removing it anyway. Woojin glances at him before clearing his throat, a recall of inquiry knocking on his brain.

”Anyway, you seen my shirt?”

Minho’s eyes dart from left to right. “Which one?”

”The white tank top I let you borrow last week. Y’know, with the weird stain?”

The image of the large shirt comes to memory. Minho snickers and gestures toward the jungle of clothes.

”Good luck.”

Woojin’s eyes enlarge. “You can’t be serious,”

The roommates crack into a fit of giggling, eyes glint with pure amusement. The eldest scoffs, a free hand glued to the golden knob.

”Forget it, I’ll wear something else.”

He’s about to exit the room when Minho abruptly speaks again.

”Want a smoke?”

Minho waves a new one in his face, his own tucked between his pink, dry lips. Woojin thinks, the temptation all too powerful. However, the thought of rushing the process instead of savoring it seems like a complete waste.

”Nah, I’ll wait.”

”Sure?” Minho lights the end of his cigar once more, the blazing scent growing thicker in the atmosphere. Woojin crinkles his nose.

”Positive.”

A smirk settles on his face when he swiftly removes the piece from his mouth and slowly huffs, a small cloud of smoke sailing in Woojin’s direction. Jisung laughs, bending to inspect through random shirts and pants that remain messily sprawled around on their carpet floor. A rather solemn appearance rests upon Woojin’s face.

”You know damn well father would beat both your asses if he caught you doing that, right?”

”Would he, though? I think he loves me too much to do such thing.”

Woojin rolls his eyes.

”Now Jisung, he’s a different story.”

Jisung is quicker than a heartbeat when he arises, a shirt in his grip as he glares at his roommate.

”Take that back! Father loves me just as much.”

”He loves us _all_ just as much.” Woojin corrects the other, “Now quit fooling around and get ready. I’m pretty sure we have a lot to cover today.”

”Okay, Chan.” Jisung responds, eliciting a snicker from Minho. Woojin rolls his eyes once more and tries to walk away, only to be wheeled back in when the younger grabs his attention. “Hyung, wait! Here’s your shirt!”

A wide grin pulls at the corners of his lips. Arms open and prepared for the toss, he’s rather baffled when the piece of fabric lands on his face instead, causing him to stumble backwards and collide with the door.

“Shit!”

Chan claps his hands once, the pop causing heads to turn in autopilot.

”Okay!” he begins, “I need you all to stand in front of the board, please.”

Utters and grumbles reach his ears as the group set their chosen equipment and bottles aside. Chan ignores them, removing the cap to the marker in hand to write a message on the whiteboard hanging on the wall. The silence was absolutely ridiculous — a consistent reminder of heavy tension. Though they rarely spend time socializing at the gym to begin with, this mornings’ quiet is not their ordinary quiet.

Chan clears his throat, watching his brothers gather around him, orbs scanning the message before them.

_Exceed._

“Because of Hyunjin’s condition, we have to exclude him for a while.”

Jeongin’s heart hammers against his chest and he tries to avert his eyes, tries to ignore the resentment plucking at his nerves. Nobody glances at him, yet he can feel everyone’s eyes, everyone’s attention being drawn toward him. He swallows down anxiously.

”With that being said,” Chan starts to scribble words on the board, “we need to work harder now. Every single one of you will need to push and step out of your comfort zone. Use a bigger weight. Aim for a bigger number. Sweat harder.”

Chan takes a step back to examine the name he wrote, eyes steadily being drawn to Seungmin. The boy shifts from his slightly slouched position.

”How’s your schedule looking?”

”I don’t work until this weekend.” he responds quietly, hands snaking behind his back. Chan nods.

”Sounds good. This week —“ their leader jots a list of exercises beside the boy’s name, explaining slowly as he writes, “I need you to focus on nothing but cardio. You work a lot kid, so you should spend time focusing on every muscle. Am I right?”

”Got it.”

The rest of the group receive tremendous loads of exercises, each possibly harder than the last. Chan gives himself cardio as well, voluntarily choosing to fill in for Hyunjin. When he finishes discussing, the room returns to it’s tense silence.

Jeongin drags his mat across the flooring, migrating toward the center of the room and further away from the stern leader. The youth simply can’t face him without feeling kind of intimidated. Labeling himself as a coward seems about accurate, because although he might be jumping to conclusions, he can’t back the notion of Chan possibly hating him. And the thought alone frightens him.

In a way he feels out of place, almost as if he doesn't belong. Besides Chan, nobody has acknowledged him; not even Seungmin.

He takes a sip of water before setting it aside, grabbing for his weights and stepping onto the cushioned mat. He shuts his eyes and attempts to focus, ignoring the heavy tension he still felt around him. The boys’ are starting to talk, starting to _whisper,_ andJeongin tries to listen to all of it. Of course, every conversation mingles and becomes an entirely different language. He tries to listen for Hyunjin’s name, for his _own_ name, even. It isn’t necessary, as he is aware of their love for him, however it feels necessary, considering the damage he had created and—

"Doing alright, mate?"

Jeongin startles from the daze he hadn't even realized he was in, glancing at the blonde who's approaching his side. He's grinning, and to this day the younger male will never understand how one can simply be this full of glee at six in the morning. Not to mention the lack of sleep.

Jeongin nods, watching the older set his weights and water bottle aside. Though he genuinely isn't in the best mood to speak, shooing Felix away would hurt his own feelings. Shooing any of his teammates away, as a matter of fact. Plus it'd hurt his pride; father's harsh words, Chan's angry ranting, the watchful orbs of his brothers, and the grimace Hyunjin wore on his face left an aching scar in Jeongin's heart.

The boy refuses to let them see how much last nights events had fazed him.

He huffs, lifting the weights so they were aligned with his chest.

"You sleep okay?" Felix asks, receiving a single nod in response.

_Fuck no,_ is what Jeongin wants to say. Avoiding that was a very wise choice, though.

"I guess," the words are released a lot duller than Jeongin had intended, mentally groaning. To convince the older he truly is okay, he adds, "Wasn't the best, but..”

Felix awaits for the boy to continue, nodding a moment later when he realizes Jeongin has nothing else to say.

"Me too," the Australian lifts his own weights, utterly identical to Jeongin, "it's harder to sleep nowadays. Y'know, having to migrate and stuff."

Oh. That.

Jeongin sniffles while nodding in agreement, guiding the weights to his sides, and after a few seconds returns them to the previous state, a repetitive process. Felix chooses to start with lunges, as requested beside his name on the board.

“You’ve been pretty quiet this morning, J.”

”Have I?”

“It wasn’t really your fault, ya know,” he’s practically whispering now, reassurance audible in his voice, “we couldn’t have predicted that that would happen. I mean, Woojin could have, but technically we aren’t supposed to use our abilities unless we’re working.”

Jeongin’s brows furrow with confusion. _Technically,_ however the elder could have considered using his ability, especially since they were sneaking out behind Jinyoung’s back. To top that, the trailer just so happens to be sitting amongst a forest; only god knows where those guys came from, and how long since they’ve been watching them.

The youth decides to place that info to the side and agree with Felix. He wants to at least feel some sort of sympathy toward himself.

“Yeah,”

Felix shifts to switch positioning of his legs, left leg extended behind him and the other slightly bent forward. Jeongin sighs and drops the weights at his sides, this time halting the workout. The more it occurred to his mind, the more the boy realizes; Felix has always been so kindhearted, so caring toward his teammates. He’s quite understanding, thus being one of the many reasons everyone in the pack has a soft spot for him. With Jeongin’s nerves currently bundled in tight and irritable knots, perhaps pretending isn’t required when around this kid.

He needs somebody to talk to.

”I, um.. I’m pretty sure Chan hates me now, though.”

Felix shoots the younger with a look of umbrage, blonde hair moving in sync with the abrupt motion.

”Chan does not hate you,”

”How can you be sure? Father scolded us and Chan tried to lecture me. Keep in mind this isn’t the first time I’ve fucked up.”

”Well if that’s the case, then he hates all of us.”

The Aussie isn’t wrong. He can count the numerous amount of times he himself and the rest of the gang have messed up. Excluding their days as trainees, Jeongin definitely hasn’t been the only one causing accidents. The tasks they are given aren’t guaranteed to be accomplished.

Felix chuckles, “I would say we are only human, but that’d be a lie, wouldn’t it?”

It’s more of a statement than an inquiry. Jeongin chuckles through his nose, resuming to his previous motions.

”Still, I feel really bad. Honestly I wish I was in Hyunjin’s shoes instead.”

The older quirks his brows at that, lips formed into a thin line. He rapidly shakes his head in disagreement.

”You don’t want to be in Hyunjin’s shoes. Trust me.” the blond looks over his shoulders a couple of times before leaning a bit closer to the youth. “Did you see his wounds?”

Jeongin faintly quivers. Recalling such image haunts his memory and will forever scar him. Guilt plucks at his nerves once more and he swiftly nods a single nod, swallowing hard.

Felix averts his eyes to face the blue painted wall.

”He’ll be alright, though. We all will.” the smile is audible in his voice, utterly high-spirited and full of reassurance. Jeongin attempts to return the exact same energy, twitched smile tugging at a corner of his lips.

Felix huffs and stands up straight, taking a moment to breathe. About two more reps, and lounges will be completed. He stares down at his shoes, studying the sky blue mat he stands upon. He admires the color. In fact, it reunites him with a few foggy memories: swimming, ice skating, and simply playing in the sun when he and the others were allowed free time.

Sometimes Felix misses their days as trainees. Of course, being granted a mission will solely bring them closer to their goal. One step at a time and they’ll be rewarded with peace, as father promised.

Heck, perhaps they will have time to ice skate again before they officially leave for the winter. Although he hasn’t stood on ice for what has felt like decades.. and he’s having trouble trying to recall why..

Felix tilts his head to the side slightly, a brow arched downward in the slightest.

”Hey, uh, J?”

”Hm?”

The boy faces the other, attempting to keep his breathing steady. Felix is quiet at first, like he’s trying to process the thoughts swarming his mind. He meets Jeongin’s dark, concerned orbs, confusion visible in his own expression.

”What ever happened to mum?”

Time seems to freeze. Jeongin almost looks identical to a fish out of water, mouth parted and eyes narrowed slightly.

”What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we can clear up some confusion, here are the characters’ abilities:
> 
> Chan: vampire  
> Minho: can possess/salamander  
> Hyunjin: werewolf  
> Felix: can lift heavy objects/fox  
> Jisung: firebird  
> Changbin: giant crow  
> Jeongin: tarantula  
> Woojin: can predict future 20 minutes prior/shapeshifter  
> Seungmin: pit bull
> 
> the arcane cigarettes are supposed to be inhaled because they help the gang recover after constantly using their abilities. You’ll discover more later, I promise <3
> 
> stay tuned!!


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyunjin encountered a vision;
> 
> Felix learns the story behind their mother and her vanishing.

Pained grunts fill father's immense room. A cloth had been tucked into Hyunjin's mouth to reduce any loud noises, the boy occasionally biting into the piece of fabric whenever a sharp twinge coursed through the deep cuts on his stomach. His breathing had emerged in shallow gasps, body trembling as he tried to remain still. The man sitting in front of him assisted, arm clasped around his waist as he proceeds to stick a needle and thread through his flushed skin. He's focused, orbs following the keen object that pierced the skin, steadily closing up the wound.

Beads of sweat trickle down Hyunjin's forehead and gather into his meshed head of hair. He grimaces, eyes glistening and toes curling as a low, exasperated whine emerges from his throat. He wants to occupy his mind, however when he pushes his brain to do so, flashing images of blood and sharp objects corrupt him. Suddenly he feels trapped.

He hears praises, words like _“you’re doing great”_ and _“almost done”._

Bullshit.

Trembling, the boy turns his head in the slightest to face the man, tears welling in his eyes.

”P-Please, stop.”

The muffled plea causes the doctor to slow down his process, orbs meeting the other’s pained ones. He sighs. “As much as I want to follow your request, your father would like this procedure to be done as quickly as possible. I’m sorry, but I must continue.”

A single tear rushes down the side of his face and gathers onto his flushed ear.

”It’s alright. You’re almost done, I promise.”

Bull, fucking, shit. Hyunjin refused to believe that — he felt as though this was taking several, several hours.

An eternity of excruciating agony ends the moment the sound of the needle collides against the surface of the wooden table beneath him.

Hyunjin releases a dry huff, shutting his eyes with pure relief.

”Well done.” says the elder, audibly shifting from his seat and gathering his belongings. “I’ll return in two weeks to observe the healing process.”

Hyunjin does not make a sound. Every muscle in his body is stiff.

Jinyoung’s head snaps up at the sound of gentle knocking, narrowed eyes glued to the door.

”Come in,” he says. The doctor peers into the room quite hesitantly, orbs searching and eventually landing upon the man sitting in front of a large desk.

He clears his throat. “The procedure was a success. However, he’ll need quite a bit of time to fully recover.”

Jinyoung blinks. “How long is ‘a bit of time’?”

”About a month, sir.”

The man grimaces and shuts his eyes. Three months from now, they are to be standing among a crowd of thousands, millions even. They, he and his large gang of spies, are to gain power to prevent Yang Hyun-suk from even _attending_ the upcoming election. Waiting for Hyunjin is simply not an acceptable option.

His eyes open. “So, you’re telling me, that those stitches are going to take a _month_ to heal him?”

“Stitches only take about a week, however, I suggest you allow him some time to both mentally and physically recover.”

Jinyoung sputters at that. “You calling my kid a pussy?”

The doctor’s mouth rapidly opens to speak, but Jinyoung beats him to the chase.

”I’ll remind you I have a team of nine boys. Each have been through hell and back. I don’t know what happened the night Hyunjin was taken, but I know for a fact that he’ll be able to suck it up and fight back those injuries. Like he always has.”

”Uh, b— sir,” his words become a stumbling mess. “I highly suggest that you speak to him yourself first, and let him decide what he wants to do.”

”What’s the point, though?” Jinyoung says, amused laughter escaping through his nose. “I know what he wants.”

The doctor releases a rather exasperated sigh, watching the other rise from the chair. Park Jinyoung is, has always been, a very complicated person.

”Still. Must I inform you, he was very, well, frightened during the procedure.”

A snicker.

”How so?”

”He _begged_ me to cease the performance. Not only that, but this kid was very shaky, and—“

”That’s normal, ain’t it?” Now the man is full on laughing, slightly slumped forward with his hands resting along the surface of the table. “He was awake during _surgery,_ for Pete’s sake!”

”I understand that, however—“

”Look,” he starts solemnly, the laughter vanishing within seconds, “I’ve already made up my mind. Your persuading is utterly useless.”

A quick moment of silence.

The doctor sighs out of defeat.

”Very well, then.” he smiles, “I wish you and Hyunjin the best of luck. Please call if something urgent occurs.”

Jinyoung nods — a nod of response, and a nod to tell him he could escort himself out of the room. The doctor bows his head respectfully and leaves quickly.

The minute he had rushed out, Jinyoung snorted at the thought of the other’s previous words. _A month._ Absolutely absurd. No way in hell would Hyunjin need to take that long to recover. After the door audibly shuts, the man decides to check on his spy. The blood was certainly wiped away — at least, he hopes and prays it had been — and perhaps the kid has slipped into a blissful slumber by now.

His socked feet scrape along the surface of the hardwood floor as he proceeds into the larger room, faint creak of the door audible. Like he suspected, the boy was sound asleep, hands instinctively gripping onto the edges of the desk. He appears to be at peace, yet then again, he doesn’t. His expression twists and contorts with discomfort, bruised knuckles a tint of white, and his body visibly quivering. He’s also sweating. A lot.

Jinyoung sighs through his nose as he reaches the desk at last, faint smile on his face.

_Two weeks_ , he mentally decides. _Hyunjin will have two full weeks of recovery, no more, no less._

In a very delicate manner, the man lifts Hyunjin’s shirt to reveal the white wrap covering his stomach. A few spots were damp with drying blood. He observes the boy for a moment, as if he were weighing options, then tugs the shirt back over his stomach.

A few wounds should not have done him _too_ much damage. With a couple of weeks of proper treatment, Jinyoung can almost guarantee that Hyunjin will recover quickly and make it seem as if nothing ever happened to begin with. And as far as the men who injured him, Jinyoung has mentally stored their appearances somewhere in his mind. He remembers what they look like, where they were, and has various ideas of why they chose to capture one of his spies.

Too deep in thought, he wears a puzzled expression when he notices Hyunjin’s squirming. He releases the hem of his shirt and watches. The youth releases a low groan, his grip on the edges seemingly growing tighter.

”Hyunjin,” Jinyoung says in a hushed tone. He doesn’t hear, though, as he’s utterly lost in some strange nightmare. Forehead creased, Hyunjin releases yet another groan, this time louder than the previous. Beads of sweat form before his hairline, breathing completely uneven and shallow.

”Hyunjin.” Jinyoung speaks louder this time, only to receive a pained grunt in response. “Hyunjin, wake up.”

With a gentle shake to the arm, the boy jolts sharply. It wakes him up in an instant, however, Hyunjin appears tremendously traumatized, as if he’d just witnessed the devil himself. Eyes gape with shock, he attempts to sit up. Jinyoung is quick to settle him back down, placing a hand against his chest.

” _Relax,_ relax.” he says in a hushed tone, “It’s only me. You’re okay.”

Hyunjin, a gasping mess, stares up at the man as if he’s never seen him before. As if Jinyoung has violated him.

Jinyoung takes a second to breathe in carefully.

”Are you feeling okay?” he asks slowly.

A pregnant pause.

”Uh huh,” Hyunjin nods a few seconds later. He looks very uncertain, very uneasy. Jinyoung swallows anxiously.

_They seriously do not need another Lee Felix situation._

The man hovers two fingers over Hyunjin’s face.

”How many fingers am I holding up?”

Another pregnant pause.

”Uh,” Hyunjin’s breath is shaky, “t-two?”

Jinyoung exhales with relief. “Good. That’s good, Hyunjinnie.” He runs his fingers through the boy’s brown locks, mentally praising God. “Do you remember what happened to you? When those men took you away?”

The boy nods slowly, lips jutted forward.

”I-I’m sorry. Really, I am. I just wanted to look out for Jeongin and—“

”Hey,” Jinyoung rests a hand against Hyunjin’s arm, “relax. You aren’t in trouble.”

  
Hyunjin’s plush lips form an ‘o’.

”All I would like to know is what occurred. What caused them to torture you?”

Now Hyunjin’s eyes were shut. Tightly. He could not bare to even allow the notion to course through his memory. He wishes to wash away that memory completely and forget about everything that did occur that night.

The boy remembers

_wheezing, gasping like he simply could not get enough air, like he had been drowning, drowning, drowning, and had risen to air at last. His eyes gaped as he attempted to search for the men that were torturing him, perhaps moments ago. They were no where to be seen. As a matter of fact, there was nothing to be seen among him._

_Instead, his surroundings were blacked out, and he was slowly coming to the conclusion that he might be blind. He soon came to realize the arms that were clasped around him. He was practically being bear hugged, face smothered against the sharp shoulder. The unknown figure refused to budge, even after the few attempts Hyunjin made to be released._

_He was... floating? He could not tell, but it sure as hell felt like that. Sounds around him were muffled and quiet, rewarding him the feel of being beneath the ocean. For a moment, he began to think that he might have passed. That at the very moment, he was in the arms of God._

_But a soft voice spoke in his ears, reminding him that he indeed was still alive. That voice rang a bell._

“I-I,” Hyunjin tenses. He takes a minute to ponder about his current thoughts, because he genuinely still cannot comprehend what that.. _moment,_ was. Perhaps in reality, Hyunjin had blacked out when the team came to his rescue and hadn’t encountered any agony from those men ever since.

He exhales. “I can’t remember. I..” pause, “They kept asking me questions. Then they started..”

He trails off, unable to continue that sentence. Jinyoung nods.

”.. I think I saw something, though.”

_”My love, you must wake up now..” the voice said._

Jinyoung quirks a brow. “Go on. What did you see?”

”I..” Hyunjin shuts his eyes for a brief moment to think, to _recall._

_”... face your fears...”_

”After I passed out, I..”

_“.. let go..”_

”Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin hardly realized he was beginning to zone out, attempting to drift back into focus.

”I saw..”

_”.. like I did.”_

Hyunjin lightly gasps, slightly shifting to sit up. A lightbulb flickers on in his head and suddenly he is able to recall what that vision had been, who that voice belonged to, and possibly, _why_ the vision had occurred underwater.

”What?” Jinyoung says in a practical panic. “What is it? What is it that you saw?”

“I think,” Hyunjin is cautious, watching father’s expression carefully, “I think I saw mother.”

Two hours. No more, no less.

Chan sat the gang in the center of the room after a large series of workouts. He plops down between Minho and Woojin.

“Father will be here soon,” he starts after a clap of his hands, “for now, I need ideas. Someone tell me what we should do to improve father’s chance of winning the election.”

The group of seven remain silent, fiddling or staring or doing _something_ other than answering. Chan’s eyes dart at each of them carefully, every quiet second ticking slowly. He catches Seungmin shifting nervously, quirking a brow upwards.

”Seungmin?”

The boy’s head rises in an almost cautious manner.

”C’mon, you’re the brains, aren’t you? You can’t think of anything?”

”I mean,” he starts, slightly adjusting his round glasses, “I _could,_ but I’ve said it so many times. It’s becoming repetitive.”

Chan nods, tearing away their eye contact to look at the others.

”I’m tired, of making mistakes.” Chan announces slowly. “Lately, I’ve noticed how much we’ve been.. slacking, let’s put it that way. I know that the process of migration might be causing you all to feel stressed and anxious, but we’ve done it before, have we not?”

Although heavy silence zips in the air among them all, Chan witnesses a few nods of reply.

”Stressing our old man out isn’t doing us any good. You recall his promises, don’t you?”

Jisung nods quickly. “Freedom,” he says.

”Freedom, and generally a better future. And to me, all we’re doing is taking his kindness for granted.”

”But..” Changbin starts, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “We _are_ trying. Sometimes we can’t help the mistakes we make.”

”You’re right, but we also can help prevent making mistakes to begin with. Especially stupid ones, am I right?”

Jeongin’s face flushes. Perhaps the youth is overthinking it, but Chan is deliberately being petty. It is utterly audible in his voice, that cold tone of his when he often spoke the truth. And a painful truth that was.

The leader clears his throat.

”I want every single one of us to be able to prove to father that we can make him president. He _will_ be president.”

Chan witnesses a series of rapid nods from the seven listeners.

”We only have three months until the election begins, which means we don’t have much time. Let’s make good use of the time we have to earn more money, gain strength, and receive more votes.”

Felix hesitantly raises a hand. “Uh, hyung?”

”What’s up, Lix?” Chan shifts so he is sitting upright.

”I, uh.. this isn’t about father and what not, but.. would you by any chance happen to k—“

A loud beep, along with the door being pushed open startles the group from their concentration. They all turn their focus toward the figure entering.

”Sorry I’m a little late, guys.” says Jinyoung, faint smile on his pale face.

”It’s okay”s and “hello, father”s course through the large gym as the man sets a few of his belongings on the wooden bench near the door. A momentary silence causes Jinyoung to face the seated team.

”What are we all discussing?” he questions.

“I was going over expectations for the next couple of months.” Chan explains. Jinyoung nods with approval.

“Sounds good.” He replies. “How long were workouts this morning?”

Jisung releases an exasperated huff. “Two hours.”

”Wonderful. Keep that up and you guys will be able to face _anything.”_

Jeongin, eyes locked on his entangled fingers, flinches with astonishment when father takes a seat beside both him and Felix.

“So as you all know, we will be migrating sooner or later. However, I don’t want this to be our ordinary migration.”

Brows furrow.

”With that being said,” the man reaches for a clipboard that was abandoned by his side, flipping a few pages as he explained, “I have a new task for one of you to complete.”

That sentence caused the boys to sit upright, interest gleaming within their dark orbs. Well, everyone _except_ Jeongin. The boy simply hated volunteering, and now he definitely isn’t up for stepping in. As for the others, stepping foot into a new task and succeeding was a job they truly enjoyed. Anything that makes Jinyoung proud is their pleasure.

Jinyoung silently reads over the notes and quirks an eyebrow.

”Hm. Actually, a couple of you could pitch into this one.”

He brings his attention to his team, eying each of them pensively. He considered allowing Chan to choose a pair, yet wisely decided to leave it to himself. Though the eldest Australian is one of his most loyal spies, he also is not quite sure what had went through the leader’s head last night.

”Tonight I’m sending two of you into a bar. I want you to dress your best, disguise yourself a bit, and gather as much money as you can.”

_Wow,_ is what Jisung wants to comment. Then again, father has put them in situations much crazier before. There is nothing to be baffled about.

”No fighting involved?” Jinyoung turns his head in Minho’s direction as the male speaks, “No weapons? Tasers? Nothing?”

”Weapons aren’t very necessary for this one. If any punk tries putting their hands on you, you know how to use your fists.”

”Alright, so who should be the ones to go?” Chan inquires.

Jinyoung smiles, the click of his pen audible as he starts to write.

”I’m thinking.. Seungmin?”

The boy’s eyes gape and he rapidly shakes his head. Jinyoung laughs.

”No? What’s the matter?”

”I-I’m just not a big fan of crowds.” he states sheepishly.

”That’s fine. You can spend the day working on those speeches with me, yeah?”

Seungmin nods. “Sure.”

The man replies with a nod of confirmation before turning his attention back to the page, tapping the ink pen against his chin mindlessly. Without a doubt, Felix is bound to succeed in this mission. He’s got the looks, the attitude, and can easily perceive when and how to attack his victims. Felix had automatically been chosen when Jinyoung started plotting the task in the first place. Perhaps Changbin could tag along as well. The male is all muscle and appears intimidating, and intimidation could make great use for this particular task.

It makes sense to put them together, because after all, the pair are indeed the strongest of the gang. Jinyoung clicks his tongue after weighing options.

”Felix and Changbin.”

They avert their eyes from elsewhere to face father.

”I expect no slip ups in this one. I mean, this is probably the easiest task I’m giving you. So—“

He hands the clipboard over to Chan, who gladly takes it to review the written notes.

”Because Hyunjin is resting, I will test the earpieces myself. The rest of you know what to do.”

”Father?” Woojin says lowly, “May I ask what this task has to do with migrating?”

His lips tug upward into a smile while he rises to his feet. That same mysterious smile Chan witnessed earlier this morning.

”Because, once Felix and Changbin get the extra money, we will move into a house.”

Astonished gasps and utters fill the room.

”No way,” mutters Minho, unaware of Jisung’s tough grip against his forearm.

”Seriously? Like, a _house_ house?” Seungmin inquires loudly.

”Yup. We’ll discuss upgrades later.” He glances down at his watch. “As of right now, you guys have about ten hours before your task begins. Best of luck.”

The temperature ranged from fifty to thirty degrees, constantly shifting for no apparent reason. Another session of snowfall is supposed to occur this week, thus marking the fourth time for the season. It irks the gangs nerves, honestly; snow caused delays, delays caused waiting, and waiting caused useless days spent in the RV. Or, perhaps, those days aren’t necessarily _useless,_ given the fact that they often spend that time to focus on designing clothes and weapons for father.

The sky was solely partly cloudy this afternoon, much to their surprise. Even the sun had decided to peer from behind a fluff of cloud, although it is not changing the fact that it is ridiculously cold. Not an ounce of snow would melt.

After the short lived meeting, Felix reminded his leader that he needed to speak to him. Is it important? That, Felix could not even answer himself. He is confused and a little anxious. When he confronted Jeongin about mother, the boy only seemed to shrug it off.

”You should ask Chan, hyung.” Jeongin had suggested. And ask Chan Felix did.

”She almost killed you. She _tried_ to kill you.”

Knees against his chest, the smaller male stares straight ahead absentmindedly, absorbing every word Chan tells him. Chan is seated beside him, utterly careless of the wet patches the snow creates on his sweats.

_”Mother,_ tried to kill me?”

Chan hums along with nodding his head.

”Why?”

A soft sigh.

”Well, if we’re being honest, none of us really know why. She just..” he pauses to carefully think about his next words, “I think something was wrong with her. Mentally.”

Felix draws in his lower lip. “Maybe it was because.. never mind.”

”Go on, it’s okay.”

Felix takes in a steady breath.

”Maybe it was because I wasn’t an infant when father took me in.”

Chan twitches his lips as he ponders those words momentarily.

”Maybe.”

It was a discussion nobody in the team knew how to genuinely answer. Mother hadn’t favored any of them, nor had she disliked any of them. At least, perhaps she was great at hiding such fact.

Chan can recall the day he’d been running, _sprinting_ to come to Felix’s rescue. His eyes never left the boy whom was struggling to keep his head above ice cold water, helplessly reaching for mother’s hand. He can recall how shaky he was after pulling Felix to safety, cradling the drenched, limp boy in his arms. He felt so, so sick to the stomach that he could have vomited on the spot if he really needed to. Mother had drowned, and that was the last time Chan remembers witnessing a sobbing Jinyoung.

”So.. she ended up drowning instead of me?” Felix asks quietly, receiving another nod of response.

”She was trying to pull you under with her. Woojin and I got to you right in time. Father tried to save her.. but..” He trails off, deciding that enough was said.

The younger Aussie gently scratches at his scalp, finally averting his eyes to face the other.

”That incident diagnosed you with short term memory loss. But honestly, your memory seems to be all over the place now.”

”How so?”

”That happened over two years ago, and all of a sudden you thought about mother today.”

”Oh.” was all Felix could manage. He’s downright given up on attempting to picture the scene. He can remember her face, of course, but not the incident. Every memory he shared with that woman is a blur, and suddenly he can’t remember a good nor a dreadful experience he’s possibly had with her. The only abuse he’s ever encountered was when he was just a child — a small, defenseless, and utterly lost child.

Felix escaped the parlous home of his biological parents at the age of twelve, and after turning thirteen, he was brought into the arms of Park Jinyoung. He is not sure if he’d been the cause of mother’s unusual act, and is not sure if he’s ever willing to find that out. The guilt would spread within him like a wildfire.

The sound of scraping against the snow startles Felix from his notion, facing a shifting Chan.

”I know I rarely say this, Lix, but I really do appreciate you. Losing you would have been like losing a little brother.”

Felix twitches a small smile. “Really?”

”Mhm,”

”But, we all are brothers in a way, right?”

Chan seems to ponder the inquiry for a few seconds.

”Sure.”

Seungmin went over a few pages of a particular speech he prepared for father. One o’ clock was right around the corner when his job called, asking for his assistance. They claimed it was “urgent”, and whether it genuinely was or not, Seungmin could care less. Father allowed him to accept and get ready, promising the boy that he would practice his speech while he was gone.

The remainder of seven gathered in Chan’s room after a few hours of designing clothes for Felix and Changbin.

”Don’t you think they should wear wigs, too?” Jisung asks, back against the railing of the bed. Changbin sputters.

”Absolutely _not._ ”

Chan rolls his eyes. “We all know _you_ won’t, Changbin.”

”I don’t see what the problem is,” Felix says, “there isn’t anything wrong with wearing a wig.”

”Exactly. Keep in mind that this is only temporary.” Woojin adds, who’s busy scribbling on the large computer screen with a silver stylus. Jeongin watches with enlarged pupils as the elder sketches strands of short, curly hair. “I’m already on it, Han.”

Both Jisung and Changbin scramble to their feet to peer over Woojin’s shoulder. The design is cute — something that will definitely be on Felix’s head tonight, not Changbin’s.

Jisung’s lips curve upward and he looks back at Felix.

”This really suits you, Felix.” he comments. “I think you should color it purple, hyung.”

”Gross,” mutters Changbin. He turns to approach the corner Chan stands at. The leader has been rereading the notes for the past five minutes now.

”Quit acting like it’s for you.” Minho says, counting the stash of cash Chan often collects to place in father’s safe.

”Team.” Chan abruptly speaks. Heads turn rapidly in his direction, every motion they all were making halted. “Anyone know where ‘Sosiji Club’ is located?”

Changbin’s orbs enlarge with aversion.

” _Sosiji?_ Don’t tell me _that’s_ the bar father’s sending us to.”

Momentarily, Chan stares at him, then slowly begins to nod his head. Changbin gags, waving a dismissive hand.

”Yeah, that’s dead.” he mutters, walking toward another corner of the room.

”Wait, I don’t get it. What’s wrong with Sosiji Club?” Jeongin asks, voice low and hardly audible.

”That's—“ Changbin groans, “It’s a gay bar. No way in hell will I force myself to flirt with a dude.”

Minho snickers, “Your homophobia is showing.”

”Come on, Bin. You can’t even do it for father? He specifically chose you and Felix.”

Changbin shakes his head in a rapid manner, hands tucked in his pockets.

”Sorry, can’t. Would’ve been nice to know that that’s what we were signing up for.”

”Well then, someone will have to take—“

”I’ll do it.” Jisung throws a hand in the air, nearly smacking Woojin in the face.

”Are you sure?”

”Why not? They won’t bite.”

Changbin narrows his eyes. “But keep in mind, you have to _flirt_ with men that are probably about half our age.”

”Dude, it’s fine. I like men.”

A brief silence.

”You do?” Felix raises his brows. Jisung shrugs.

”Sure. I like _you_ guys.” He throws his arms around Woojin and Jeongin’s necks. Both grimace, completely frozen in place as their eyes grow comically gape.

”Yikes.” Minho comments nonchalantly, eyes glued to the money in his hands. Chan spends a few seconds thinking about what he just learned, eyes moving from the clipboard to Jisung, then back to the clipboard.

”Alright, that’s.. I guess I don’t really know any of you too well after all.” He takes his pen and crosses Changbin’s name out, scribbling Jisung’s name above. “Thanks, Jisung.”

”Welcome. And hyung, make me a wig, too.”

Their gear was ready, as well as their wear for the night. Changbin and Woojin stayed in the RV with Jeongin to watch over the cameras. Chan and Minho guard the building, attempting to appear as casual as possible whenever people approached the club. Blue and purple lights flash, noisy chatter and blaring tunes ring outside of the building.

Jisung stares at the scene eagerly, arm latched around Felix’s. The outfits are not necessarily casual, yet aren’t very formal, either. Felix is dressed in loose, black shorts (the waistband hugging his tiny waist), and a white, see-through shirt that exposed his chest and abs. Jisung wears something similar; a crimson colored choker (to somewhat match with his burgundy wig), a black see-through shirt, and white, ripped jeans. 

Both look like they belong in a photo shoot, more than anything.

”Alright, remember to be casual.” Chan practically whispers into his mic, watching the pair approach the double doors. “If someone wants to buy you a drink, let them. Just don’t let it be consistent, or else it’ll mess up the plan.”

”Got it, boss.” Felix responds. He halts to adjust his lavender colored wig.

”Good luck, you two.” Jeongin says.

”Hey, Jisung,” Changbin utters, “please don’t catch any feelings for anyone in there.”

Jisung rolls his eyes as Felix snickers.

”Ready, Han?” the boy asks, searching his pockets for the fake ID’s Woojin created earlier.

“I was born ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. It’s been a while and I’m deeply sorry for the delay. I have been very busy, but hey, life update, I’m really enjoying my graphic design class! It’s super cool.
> 
> So, what I really wanted to talk about was the news about Woojin. The moment I found out I was so upset that I didn’t even want to continue to write this fic anymore. Woojin is just as important as everyone else in this fic so of course, I will continue to include him. We do not know the reason as to why he decided to leave and honestly, I will respect his decision no matter what. It was just SUPER unexpected. I kept asking my sister “why did it have to happen in my ult group??” It hurt so much and I cried listening to their songs bc all I could hear was his voice, and now his voice truly stands out the most whenever I listen to skz.
> 
> Anyway, enough before I make myself cry again. I love Stray Kids and they are always going to be my ult. I have so much respect for those men. All nine of them.
> 
> Please stay tuned for the next chapter! [Follow my Twitter @00_liner]
> 
> ALMOST FORGOT!!
> 
> The curly wig was a little inspired by this pic: https://www.instagram.com/p/B2lq9UsljvR/?igshid=8c69k8te4r99

**Author's Note:**

> this series is like a freaking project, good grief. literally a month ago I started writing this and finally managed to finish the first chapter.
> 
> so anyway, this is my first skz fic and I’m super excited to share this (somewhat) planned out series w y’all! stay tuned for much more <3


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